Secret Self (VBI #3)

By Claire Farrell

What happens when friend turns to foe?
An attack by a mysterious figure leaves Ava Delaney acting like a feral beast. Believing she’s hunting those she’s closest to, Peter and Val try to stop her before she either kills someone or is captured by those who would use her.
Morals conflict with loyalties as friends turn on each other, and the only thing for certain is that Ava won’t be taken down easily.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Claire Farrell
• Release date: Mar 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370457533

Claire Farrell

Claire Farrell is an Irish author who spends her days separating warring toddlers. When all five children are in bed, she overdoses on caffeine in the hope she can stay awake long enough to write some more dark flash fiction, y/a paranormal romance and urban fantasy.

Book preview

One

Peter

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A whine came from beneath the car.

Nope, Peter said without looking. A world of nope.

"Dad, Emmett pleaded. Just throw the ball."

Peter straightened, his spine protesting with an uncomfortable crack. He leaned against the car, wiping his greasy oil-stained hands on a cloth. I’ve thrown the ball seventeen thousand times already. I’m so beyond done, the dog can’t even see me anymore.

His son grinned from his seat on the edge of the pavement, appearing not to notice his rapidly melting ice-pop dripping onto his fingers. One more won’t hurt.

Peter drew his relatively clean forearm across his sweat-slicked forehead. The heat was intolerable, but they were overdue a storm that would keep them inside for most of the weekend.

Fine. He slammed the bonnet of the car shut. I wasn’t getting anything done anyway. He ducked under his car for the tennis ball resting between Riley’s oversized paws. He could swear the animal was still growing every day. He stood and made a face at his son.

Emmett widened his hazel eyes in faux innocence. You know you want to.

Peter flung the drool-covered ball across the road and toward the end of the cul-de-sac, keeping the throw low so the ball wouldn’t inadvertently hit any of his neighbours’ windows. Riley, fetch! The niggling pain in his shoulder was worth it for the lighthearted giggle that came from his son.

The dog knocked her back against the car in what had to be a painful manner then streaked along the path toward the ball. She skidded to a stop as Carl Darcy came out of his house. The ball forgotten, Riley leapt over his gate to fawn over him.

Peter shook his head in disbelief as Carl knelt to pet the dog, his blond and silver hair glinting in the sunlight. I thought dogs were supposed to be loyal.

You should give her rashers from your plate in the mornings, Emmett advised. Then she might like you as much as him.

Maybe he should take her instead. He didn’t mean it. The dog had lit up his son’s life in a way he hadn’t foreseen, and even if her sick owner wanted to take her back, he wasn’t sure he could easily hand the animal over. Besides, Riley was decent company late at night, never expecting a conversation or even much attention. She was content to lie at his feet and give him the idea he was a little less alone.

Hey, Carl said, leading Riley towards them. Me and Ava are going out to lunch. Want to join us?

Peter tapped his hand on the hood of the car. Still working on this. Besides, I can’t leave the dog alone for longer than twenty seconds.

Carl blew his fringe off his face. He’d taken to letting his hair grow longer—a terrible idea during a heat wave. We’ll find somewhere with outdoor tables. I’m not sitting inside for any longer than I have to. I don’t want to miss a minute of this sunshine.

Peter had no important cases to take care of, was still living off the earnings from his last job—which had become incredibly high profile after the fact. He should go out with the others, mend bridges and whatever else, but the distance between he and Ava was one of his own making of late.

Ava Delaney wasn’t just the one who got away—she was the one who left him behind while she moved on with a man he despised. Her actions had affected Emmett, and he couldn’t quite forgive her for that yet.

Come on. Carl pulled Emmett under his arm and carelessly mussed his hair. It’s too hot for hard work.

Emmett deftly freed himself. Let’s go out, Dad. I’m bored.

Before Peter could think of another excuse to stay home and feel bitter and miserable, a sudden gust of wind almost blew the three of them over. The dog whined.

That was strange, Peter said, his instincts suddenly on high alert.

Storm’s coming early. But Carl sounded doubtful.

I don’t think—

A sudden crashing sound came from Ava’s house.

Carl turned to look. What the hell?

Something shattered. Peter exchanged a confused glance with Carl. The third sound of destruction leeched the colour from Carl’s cheeks. He took off for Ava’s house.

Get inside, Peter warned Emmett. Take Riley.

Dad? What’s happening?

Now! He jogged to catch up to Carl.

It can’t be trouble, Carl said at Ava’s gate, the words belying the dread behind his eyes. The place is protected.

No harm in checking. Peter’s heart rate upped even as he said the words. Maybe he was just desperate for some action, but Carl’s reaction had sent shivers down his spine. His connection to Ava couldn’t be underestimated.

And Ava didn’t make noise. She could be eerily silent at times. He peeked in her living room window while Carl looked for the spare key under a stone ornament.

Coffee table’s broken. He squinted. I can’t see her though.

Got it. Carl put the key in the lock and twisted. Nothing happened.

Jesus, Carl, would you hurry up?

"I’m trying. This key is a little… there." Carl pushed open the door.

Get out of here! Ava screamed from inside the house. Run!

Peter ran inside instead of away, closely followed by Carl.

Ava fell into the hallway from the kitchen, her eyes wild with panic. Get out! she cried, scrambling backward. Quickly!

A shadowy figure entered the hallway—giving the appearance it floated rather than strode—lifted Ava into the air, and then tossed her into the living room as though she weighed nothing. It flickered then vanished.

What the hell? Carl muttered.

Peter raced into the living room after them then froze, stunned. Ava was desperately trying to fight off her attacker. But the figure wasn’t just shadowy in appearance. It was a literal shadow, unable to be touched. Every strike she made with her glowing blue dagger went right through the transparent shape. Yet when the shadow gripped her shirt, it had no problem making contact.

It’s not real! she shouted. I can’t hurt it. Get everyone to the sanctuary! You need to go before—

The shadow attacker shoved its fist into Ava’s chest. Her head and arms slung back with the impact.

Carl desperately grabbed at the shadow, but his hands went right through its form. Peter reached for the shadow, but he, too, felt nothing. Ava’s eyes turned white as a blue glow emitted from her body. Her back arched, and she rose from the ground. The radiance intensified. She made no sound, but her body convulsed then stiffened. The blue surrounded the shadow as though it were absorbing the substance.

She’s dying! Carl cried, leaving the shadow to grab Ava instead. He tried to pull her away from the shadow, but she and it were linked by the light, impossibly joined. Help me!

Peter laid his hands across Ava’s chest to block the glow, but it was as though he didn’t exist. Or it didn’t. The light went right through his hands, and he felt nothing. None of it made sense. All he knew was that he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t save her. She was dying in front of him, and he had to stand by and watch because he couldn’t think of one thing he could do.

Do something! Desperation sent Carl’s voice up an octave.

Peter moved to Carl’s side to help him pull Ava free. He gasped at the power of the force holding Ava to it. Even together, they couldn’t save her.

The shadow attacker suddenly released Ava, sending Peter staggering back. The creature clenched its glowing blue fist, and then disappeared, along with the glow.

Ava collapsed into Carl’s arms, her eyes closed, her face pale, and her body limp. She looked dead. Her hair splayed across Carl’s bare arms like bloodstains.

Oh, God, no. Carl’s voice cracked with panic. Please, no.

With shaky hands, Peter sought out her pulse. Felt nothing. Her skin was clammy, cool. But her chest moved slightly as though she had taken a breath.

If I feed her, Carl began. If I just—

Shut up and let me concentrate! Peter tried again and found a pulse. A strong one. She’s alive, he said with relief. And confusion. It had looked as though the shadow were taking her life from her. So what had happened? Had it all been an illusion of some kind?

What’s going on here? Carl said shakily. How did something hurt her in the cul-de-sac? What did it even do to her?

I don’t know. Peter pressed his palm against Ava’s cheek. She was starting to warm back up. The word’s been getting around that she’s some kind of conduit for power. Maybe somebody stole power from her. She’ll get strong again, don’t worry.

Carl looked devastated. "She’s supposed to be safe here. We all are. She couldn’t hurt that thing, couldn’t defend herself. What if it comes back? What was it?"

Peter stood. Listen, we’ll find out. We’ll do some research, figure out what it was, and how we can stop it. The same things we always do. Maybe we should take her to the clinic. She could be—

Ava’s eyes opened, extreme dilation in the pupils making the blue look stronger somehow.

Ava, Carl said, sounding relieved. You’re okay.

She flew out of his arms, quicker than Peter could believe, up into the air, and landed on top of the bookshelf. It didn’t even wobble. She perched there like a cat, perfectly balanced, her gaze darting in every direction.

Ava, it’s all right, Carl said. It’s gone. You’re safe. We’re going to take you to…

She cocked her head to the side at the sound of his voice, looking distinctly alien to Peter’s eyes.

Uh, are you okay? Carl asked hesitantly.

She inhaled deeply, her head twisting to an even odder angle. Peter’s instincts prickled. Something was very wrong. Ava’s mouth widened, and her fangs flashed freely.

Carl, Peter said warily. Step back slowly.

Carl turned to look at him. "What?"

Ava made a pained sound before moving jerkily. She gazed at her hands for a moment.

Peter took a step back, unable to stop himself. The movement caught her attention, but her focus landed on Carl instead. Her nostrils flared, and true fear curled around Peter’s insides. She hissed then leapt on top of Carl—too fast for Peter to react—knocking him to the ground. She inhaled deeply, her nose under his chin.

Peter hesitated. She couldn’t be…

Ava, Carl whispered. What are you—?

She sank her teeth into his neck and latched on. Carl froze, didn’t even try to fight her off.

Shocked into action, Peter kicked her in the side. She leapt off Carl with a howl of protest. She spun on her hunkers, her palms on the ground, and growled at him, her mouth bloody and vicious.

You alive, Carl? Peter side-stepped slowly, bracing himself for an attack.

Yes, so don’t hit her! Carl shouted, hurriedly sitting up.

Are you crazy? She just bit you!

Ava stretched out her fingers in a claw-like manner.

Peter dove for the dropped dagger. She swiped, but he rolled out of the way, leapt to his feet, then brandished the weapon calmly, waiting for his moment. For an instant, he was the old Peter, prepared to destroy. But when she lifted the naturally stubborn set of her chin, enough memories flooded his mind to make him doubt his ability to take her on.

Ava stood, her back arched as though she couldn’t stand up straight. She approached them in a slow, serpentine movement. Before Peter could decide how far he was truly prepared to go, Carl shoved him across the room. Peter crashed into the bookcase, a number of tomes collapsing on top of him.

Carl! he roared, throwing the last of the books away from him. She bit you!

There’s something wrong with her. Carl blocked his view, his arms outstretched protectively. Don’t touch her, Peter. I mean it.

Peter swore then leapt to his feet, but by the time he wrestled Carl out of his way, Ava was gone. She got away!

Good! Carl yelled back.

Did you bang your head? Peter demanded, somehow resisting the urge to throw a punch at him. Snap out of it, Carl.

Riley barked loudly, a sound so high-pitched that it bordered on hysterical. Peter shoved past Carl to race outside, bile rising in his throat. If she laid a finger on his son…

Emmett was still standing by Peter’s car, his face pale and terrified, the remainder of his ice-pop in a puddle next to him. Riley stood before him, the merle blue hair on the back of her neck standing on end. She snarled and barked and looked ferocious, but Peter didn’t have to see Ava’s face to know she looked even more terrifying.

She stalked his son, her body moving in a way he had never seen before. And Emmett stood there, looking scared, confused, and devastated, as unable to flee as Carl had been. Peter picked up a flowerpot from her garden, threw it as hard as he could. He missed her, but the sound of the clay pot smashing into pieces against the pavement distracted her from Emmett.

Run! Peter shouted as he sprinted toward Ava.

She got down on all fours then abruptly dashed off. Peter couldn’t breathe as she bypassed the boy completely, rushing out of the cul-de-sac. Emmett watched her go, his mouth agape.

Emmett, Peter called out.

His son backed up against the car then ran inside, the dog at his heels.

Carl staggered toward Peter, his hand pressed against his wound. We have to find her.

You’re about to pass out, Peter snapped. We need to get you some help first. Then I’ll drive around and see if I can spot her. I’d say she couldn’t have gone far, but she was faster than usual.

Ignoring Carl’s protests, he helped his friend to their neighbor Anka’s house. The place smelled like herbs and stewed meat. She welcomed Carl in, confused by his mumbled protests.

I’ll explain later, Peter said. And turn off that radio so you can hear what’s going on outside!

He dashed across the road to his own home. He found Emmett huddled behind the front door, Riley sitting next to him, froth all over her mouth.

Are you all right? he asked his son.

The boy shook his head slowly.

You will be. He got on his knees to look Emmett in the eye. I’m going to find Ava and—

And what? Emmett asked, sounding terrified. What are you going to do then, Dad?

Stop her, Peter said firmly. Something happened to Ava. That wasn’t her. That was… I don’t know what.

"I know. Riley knew. But it’s Ava."

Peter patted Riley. Good dog. Great fucking dog. Come on. Over to Anka’s. Safety in numbers, and Carl’s hurt.

He headed over to Anka with his son and the dog, watching carefully for Ava to